Stout for the war, and studious of their trade:Carthage the name; belov'd by Juno moreThan her own Argos, or the Samian shore.Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav'n were kind,The seat of awful empire she design'd.Yet she had heard an ancient rumor fly,(Long cited by the people of the sky,)That times to come should see the Trojan raceHer Carthage ruin, and her tow'rs deface;Nor thus confin'd, the yoke of sov'reign swayShould on the necks of all the nations lay.She ponder'd this, and fear'd it was in fate;Nor could forget the war she wag'd of lateFor conqu'ring Greece against the Trojan state.Besides, long causes working in her mind,And secret seeds of envy, lay behind;Deep graven in her heart the doom remain'dOf partial Paris, and her form disdain'd;The grace bestow'd on ravish'd Ganymed,Electra's glories, and her injur'd bed.Each was a cause alone; and all combin'dTo kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.For this, far distant from the Latian coastShe drove the remnants of the Trojan host;And sev'n long years th' unhappy wand'ring trainWere toss'd by storms, and scatter'd thro' the main.Such time, such toil, requir'd the Roman name,Such length of labor for so vast a frame.